Hazel and Cha-Cha Save Christmas
by evelinaonline
Summary: Okay, yes, maybe Hazel would rather be drinking hot chocolate next to the fireplace on Christmas, but he and Cha-Cha have a job to do.


**Me, two days ago: Oh, updates will be very slow, sorry everyone!**

**Me, now: SO HAZEL AND CHA-CHA, YOU KNOW-**

**The title is inspired by the TUA comics, but the story itself has nothing to do with that storyline. Just another mission gone-wrong, gone-right. Enjoy!**

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"Jesus, can't we just shoot everyone and call it a day?"

Hazel was getting tired of waiting. They'd been pretending to be waiters at this Christmas event in New York City in 2004 ever since the day began—they even helped set up the tables and he hadn't been allowed to have a single bite of the bread sticks—and their target still hadn't shown up.

Temujin Torres. Mongolian business man and billionaire that dedicated his entire life and wealth to charity. A shame that his existence was messing with the timeline, really.

Hazel yelped as Cha-Cha's elbow collided with his ribs. "I'm _joking,"_ he reminded, and sighed deeply. "You should try it sometime."

"Focus, moron, we have a job to do."

"We always have a job to do."

"Then it's always time for you to focus."

Hazel groaned. All he wanted was to shove his face inside one of the plates he was serving. Or better yet, sit down and have an actual festive meal.

He hadn't done that in over three years.

And to be fair, he was the one at fault. He agreed to this when he decided to work for The Commission, but he sure as hell was reconsidering that option. Roasted beef, sweet potatoes, maybe a margarita… Oh, and apple tart for dessert, with lots and lots of whipped cream and—

"You're thinking about food, aren't you?"

Hazel turned to his right to look at his partner. She looked pretty ridiculous in the waiter costume—red shirt, black bow tie and a Santa Claus hat to top it all—but he wasn't going to tell her that. He actually wanted to get out of there alive, unlike poor Temujin Torres.

"It's not my fault I'm fucking starving." Hazel pointed towards a table in the middle of the room. "I mean, are you seeing this? I'm this close to taking it from their fucking plates and—"

"Hazel, that's it!"

"Sorry, what?"

Cha-Cha groaned. "Not your stupid food desires, look!" Hazel followed Cha-Cha's finger with his gaze, until eventually it fell on—

Temujin Torres.

"Holy shit," Hazel mumbled.

The middle-aged man looked even kinder than he did in his reference picture. His eyes smiled along with his mouth whenever he talked, and he kept adding to his plate whenever he was offered something.

His greyish hair was pulled back by a Christmas hat, similar to the ones Hazel and Cha-Cha were wearing.

Suddenly Hazel felt wrong for wearing it.

"I think he's going to give a speech in a bit," Cha-Cha said.

"I'm still hungry," Hazel said, trying to suppress the feeling of guilt in his stomach. One would think someone would get used to killing after doing it every single day of their life, and well… That was true.

But Hazel never enjoyed it.

He knew that if the Commission ever found out he was letting targets go, he'd be caught up in some serious trouble. Even more serious than the one he was in already, anyway.

The risk was worth it though.

Their targets were just people. And sure, sometimes the names on their assignment papers belonged to people who deserved to burn in hell, but most of the times? The targets were bus drivers, college students, farmers… They were just people, people Hazel and Cha-Cha could never be. Not anymore.

"What's the score?"

And yet, the one Hazel was worried about the most was his partner.

He was worried she'd find out about what he'd done—what he'd keep doing—and tell their higher-ups. That, even if she kept quiet, she'd request to change partners. That she was losing herself in this job, that she was enjoying it.

That he'd lose his best friend.

There was a loud banging sound. Then a thump. Then, on the table, red, and more red. Just red.

Temujin Torres was dead.

"The score is, I win," Hazel said and lowered his gun.

_For the greater good,_ he told himself. _For Cha-Cha._

He killed so that Cha-Cha wouldn't.

Not a second later, she'd reached for the black briefcase underneath the table, and grabbed Hazel's arm as tightly as possible.

The briefcase opened, and they were gone.

The headache never got better. Hazel supposed that was kind of his fault, for joining a Time Travelling organization, but he could deal with it. The feeling of nausea kicked in the moment his feet touched the floor of The Commission's headquarters.

Good old-fashioned 1955.

Hazel groaned, and let himself fall on the ground. He had not been prepared for that jump.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Cha-Cha's voice snapped Hazel back into reality. She looked pissed, but Hazel was so dizzy he couldn't understand why—

Oh. Right. He totally blew their cover.

"Oops?" Hazel shrugged. He wasn't in the mood of arguing.

Cha-Cha sighed. "Just don't be surprised if we're asked to travel there again," she said. A few moments passed. "But Hazel?"

"Mhm?"

"It was a good shot."

A smirk crept up on Hazel's face. "Of course it was."

Cha-Cha shook her head and held out her hand for Hazel to take. He took her offer, and soon enough he was standing on his feet again. Hazel dusted his uniform—his _Christmas themed waiter's_ uniform—off, and was about to make his way to the briefcase room to leave theirs, but then—

"You're back early," the Handler said.

As opposed to her usually dark outfits, she was dressed in a red and green short dress, tied with a black belt, high heels, and her signature hat and glasses. Her smile seemed to be even wider today. Somehow that wasn't comforting.

"Temujin Torres has been eliminated," Cha-Cha explained. "Everything went according to plan."

"I wasn't expecting anything less from my highest ranking assassins," the Handler. "The outfits don't look too bad on you."

Hazel and Cha-Cha exchanged looks for a second, but then returned a thin smile. "Quite more festive than the children's masks, aren't they?" Hazel said.

The Handler laughed loudly. "Oh, Hazel!"

She placed her hand on his shoulder—not wasting her chance to show off her gloves—and the other one on Cha-Cha's.

"How would you feel about having the day off tomorrow?"

The two partners looked at each other again. Hazel opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. After more than a thousand days of work, upon being offered a break, he truly had no idea what to say.

"A day off?" Cha-Cha asked, and Hazel silently thanked her. "Not that I am complaining—Hazel sure isn't either—but what… Why?"

"Why?" their boss said, as if the answer was the most obvious thing. "Hazel, Cha-Cha… You saved Christmas!"

The Handler smiled and patted their shoulders one last time before walking away.

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**Feel free to hit me up on tumblr (evelinaonline)! I'd love to do some festive or winter-themed requests for the holidays.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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